


The Edge of All We've Ever Known

by stylesharrys



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesharrys/pseuds/stylesharrys
Summary: Harry had always visually and emotionally enjoyed you and your company. He’d always found you attractive and kind and warm and loving and the funniest woman he’d ever met. He’d always sought your comfort when he was hurt, always told you any big news before he told anyone else. He always turned to you for advice and help. His body always somehow craved yours, be it holding hands or having an arm over your shoulder. In a crowd full of laughing people, his eyes would always be on you and late at night when he couldn’t sleep, you’d be the first person he’d call.Harry often fretted over his blank future, never knowing what it had in store for him. His mind drew a nearly blank canvas when it came to thinking about it, only two things written in bold, golden ink. Music and Y/N. No matter what, whether he was single or in a serious relationship, he knew you’d always be in his future, even if his current lover wouldn’t be, and he was always okay with that. He didn’t know why, but he was.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Reader, Harry Styles/You
Kudos: 63





	The Edge of All We've Ever Known

**Author's Note:**

> i actually really kinda loved this idea so and I’m finally trying out a little friends to lovers thing, so let’s see how it goes, also, yes i gave the reader my job in this fic just because i still have not read one fic where she has said profession, so enjoy! (also my first full harry fic so pls be kind x)

There are three groups of people when it comes to a camera. The first group that stands in front of it, the second group that stands behind it, and the third group that watches from the sideline—a meer speculator of the art. Harry had always been the former and you, well, you’d always been the latter.

You didn’t have a hidden talent that would awe the nations and put your name in headlines. You couldn’t sing, you didn’t have the body of a model, you weren’t a dancer and you couldn’t act. You were a mediocre twenty-four-year-old that’s held down the same job for six years in a residential home for individuals with learning disabilities and challenging behaviours.

You were a kind and bubbly soul with an electric personality and a huge appreciation for everything music and books. You very much didn’t mind lurking in the shadows of Harry’s life to the public. Few knew of your name, some had seen your face, but no one had ever really bothered to look closer to see who you were and how you’d gone so unnoticed in the past nine years of his career.

But you liked it that way, being a mere spectator to the crowd while you knew Harry held you closer to his heart that anyone could even imagine. You were happy with being his best friend and soulmate, as he had called you many a time, in his personal life and a friendly supporter in his public one.

It wasn’t like he treated you differently when you were in the presence of the media or fans. He’d still stand with an arm wrapped around you, whisper things in your ear just to make you laugh and hold your hand whenever places got too crowded and your anxiety started creeping up.

No one ever questioned it though. Maybe if you were drop-dead gorgeous with a captivating smile and a slender body, they would. But as a seemingly plain jane with a mediocre face and shy persona to those from afar, your involvement with Harry was never questioned. Nobody ever had a worry that Harry could be dating you, because _why would he?_

It was something you had grown to appreciate over the years that Harry’s fame grew. Living your boring, mundane life unfiltered while still having Harry so close to you was something you considered yourself lucky for. You were still able to live without being noticed, without worrying something stupid you did on a night out would make headlines and paint a bad image on Harry.

You liked still having your privacy while being so close to the pop star and living part of that life with him. Your flat was only a twenty-minute walk from Harry’s house and when he wasn’t off touring the world, he was at yours or you were at his, stuffing your faces with pizza and wine or binge-watching shows.

You liked being able to do community-based activities without being swarmed by Harry’s fans or being photographed. That was your main concern. You adored your job more than anything in the entire world and confidentiality was one of the most important aspects about it. You’d made it very clear when you’d got the job about your close relationship with Harry and the other boys while they were still a band and for almost a year you were bound to house activities only.

You’d come a long way with your job and your personal life. You’d managed to have boyfriends and sleep around a little without fans speculating you were actually dating Harry. But you didn’t need his fans assuming to jeopardize your relationships, you and Harry had done that yourselves. Your past boyfriends didn’t appreciate the fact that Harry heard your news before they did, or that he seemed to be all you talked about, and Harry’s past girlfriends didn’t appreciate the temple kisses he gave you or the way your opinion and input mattered more than anyone else’s.

Neither of you did anything to change your dynamic to make future relationships work, though. Your boyfriends didn’t last more than six months and Harry was dead set on marrying one girl until she gave him an ultimatum and in the end, he chose you. You didn’t speak to him for a week after that. Though you were thankful he didn’t cut you off, you couldn’t believe he gave up his future with the supposed love of his life to keep you in his.

_“Don’t care if she’s the love of m’ life, Y/N. You’re m’ soulmate, means more t’ me.”_

You could still remember the way your heart crumbled and fluttered at the first affirmation of calling you that. For a fleeting moment you had thought maybe he felt for you more than a best friend, and it woke something inside of you, a feeling that you didn’t know you had been harbouring. But you were wrong, so far from what a little glimmer of you had for some reason hoped.

You let the idea of there being something more between you grow, let it fester in your mind and haunt your thoughts and dreams – dreams where he kissed you tenderly and whispered proclamations of love into your ear in the dead of night. You let your hopes grow and build and birth a bed of roses who’s thorns would end up cutting you. It was when you were drunk, three too many glasses of wine on both sides and he’d called you it again, _his soulmate_. You remembered asking what he meant, teasingly asking if he was secretly in love with you.

_“No, soulmates can b’ platonic, y’know… ‘s jus’ a connection yeh have with someone else.”_

You remembered the way you immediately sobered up, smile slipping from your lips and a nauseating feeling began eating at your stomach. Three years should have been long enough for you to get over the truth, that he wasn’t in love with you like you realised you were with him. Two serious relationships you had to watch him go through, to listen to him confess his love to them, to watch him shower them with the love and affection he showed you, but you didn’t get the kisses and romantic dates, you didn’t get to sleep by his side every night, and you certainly didn’t get to cry his name in the darkness as he watched you unravel on his tongue.

You got used to it. You busied yourself with your work and picked him back up when they eventually left him. You showered him with love and affection, just like you usually would and in return, he did the same. You used your emergency holiday days and flew to Malibu for a week, to help him pour his heart into the new album. You got high with him and his friends, kissed him in the booth and in the morning, he’d forgotten it happened.

You’d dropped him off at some radio studio in London centre before work, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he met his manager and a few of his team inside. Harry had cheesed brightly at you as he climbed out of your car and promised to pick you up from work that evening. You had a twelve-hour shift and he had two radio interviews to get through.

He didn’t mind them, of course he didn’t. He was fully prepared to talk for hours and hours about the new album and the making of it, about the upcoming tour and opening acts. He was ready to beam about what his favourite tracks were and why, and he was more than happy to spend an hour after the interview talking to the crew and taking a load of selfies. He did exactly that in his first interview, cheesy smile on his lips the entire time but when he moved along a few hours later to his next one, Elvis Duran had a few questions Harry had never prepared for.

“So, now that we’ve talked about the album a little, I have a burning question that I’ve been meaning to ask you for months and months and months,” he began and Harry hummed with a little frown knitted between his brows. He licked at his bottom lip nervously, eyes squinted a little in thought.

“I noticed a little something on Twitter a while back and it caught my attention so we started doing a little digging of our own about it,” a series of pictures displayed on the large screens around the little studio and Harry’s heart leapt in his chest, throat swelling and blood running cold. Blurred pictures from as far as nine years ago and as recent as last week of you and him were plastered over the screen.

“Oh,” Harry smiled sheepishly, heart leaping and pounding and Elvis hummed, offering him a knowing look and for some reason, Harry could feel his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, _oh_. This mystery girl has been in pictures for almost ten years and yet no one knows who she is… or more no one seems to be bothered about who she is? I mean literally, none of your fans know who the girl is apart from the fact that her name is Y/N? Is that it?” Elvis continued.

Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. Was he supposed to tell the world who you were now? You’d never really talked about what would happen if you were mentioned in interviews because it never came up. The fans never made a thing of your friendship so there was no reason for the media to make a thing either. But now, he was being asked and there were pictures… so many pictures.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Harry nodded, pursed lips as he tried to bite back a nervous laugh and smile. Elvis had raised his brows expectantly and the crew snickered laughs under their breaths. Harry’s eyes wandered around the room to gauge their reactions and sighed out a laugh, thumbing at the corner of his eye.

“She’s a friend, she’s m’ best friend and ‘ve known her fo’ about ten years now,” Harry explained slowly, eyes fluttering to the screen and he focused on a picture of the band back in 2014 where Harry stood off in the corner, bending down to cup your cheeks in his hands as you grinned up at him cheesily. His heart swooned. You both looked so young.

“Ten years and the world only knows her first name?!” Elvis screeched into the mic and Harry’s chest rumbled out a laugh. He held the headphones over his ears and nodded his head, licking over his bottom lip. “How does that even happen? I mean, like… how did she stay so far out of the limelight while also being seen with you so often? I feel like we need a massive explanation, how did you guys even meet? I feel so curious and invested now.”

Harry cleared his throat and twiddled his thumbs, praying to God you wouldn’t freak out over this. “Y/N, much like myself, is a very private person, y’know? And with the job she has, she can’t really afford t’ have her face plastered all over the internet, as much of a pretty face it is,” he explained, hand gesturing to the many pictures that still shone on the screen.

Elvis smiled softly, nodding his head. “What job does she have then? Secret spy?” he joked half-heartedly and Harry choked out a laugh. _You’d never cut it to be a spy_. Harry shook his head. “No, she’s a carer… a support worker ‘n she works in the community a lot with the residents ‘n so, ‘s not right or fair to have their faces online either, y’know,” Harry drawled, trying to be as discreet and respectful as possible as he knew your manager often listened in on the radio from time to time.

Elvis nodded, brows set. “Oh, of course, of course. Wow, that’s a lovely job to have, my Aunt used to work in care and it’s so demanding and you have to have such a nurturing and kind nature about you for it.” Harry nodded quickly in agreement, lips pouted just a little as he sat closer to the mic.

He could talk about you for hours and hours, probably even _days_ if someone would listen for that long. “Yeah, and Y/N has got such a kind and caring soul. She is easily the most wonderful woman ‘ve ever met, like, she’s so perceptive of others feelings and has jus’ the biggest heart. Incredible, incredible woman,” Harry gushed and for some reason, his eyes began to tear up a little. Maybe it was because he was so proud of you, or maybe because he had the privilege of knowing you. He wasn’t sure.

“I was about to say, she’d have to be pretty phenomenal for you to think so highly of her and for her to be such a close friend of yours,” Elvis pressed gently, elbow bent on the desk and his chin sat in the palm of his hand. Harry nodded slowly and scratched softly at the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand in his lap.

“I think… I think that where we met before the band got big ‘n where we were both so young, we had that chance t’ grow together ‘n learn everything kinda side by side. She was close t’ everyone in the band ‘n I know she still talks t’ Niall a lot, they’re quite close still,” Harry added, twisting his rings around his finger and he decided maybe this wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

Elvis stayed silent for a moment, nodding and taking in what Harry had said. “So, you said you met before the band got big? When did you meet then? How did that come about, was she a fan of the show you were all on? Of X-Factor?” Elvis asked curiously and Harry barked out a laugh at the memory, shaking his head.

“We met literally the day the band got put together,” Harry smiled. “We were all going back t’ my house after ‘n there was a massive crowd outside m’ house ‘n all down the street, like, welcoming us and cheering ‘n stuff. And that night, Louis was like _‘let’s go down to the park fo’ a kick about,’_ so it was like 9 p.m. and there was this park up the road we were gonna go to, and as we left, we saw this couple moving boxes into the house next door and I was like _‘oh, didn’t know we were getting new neighbours,’_ ‘n Niall saw her first, like coming out of the house to get more boxes and she’d dropped a couple out of the van, so as the charming young gentlemen we were, we went t’ help.”

Harry had a cheesy grin on his lips, remembering how embarrassed and flustered you were when the five of them came over to your aid. Harry still remembered your cheeks burning when Niall told you they were a boy-band and we’re gonna be famous. He also remembered how Harry had rolled his eyes at his comment and you stifled a laugh.

“And that’s it?” Elvis questioned, hands in the air and Harry shrugged, a smug grin on his lips as he nodded his head. “Tha’s it, the rest is history,” he quipped back playfully, stifling a laugh. “We swapped numbers and had a little group chat. She was still in school when everything took off and she convinced her mum to like tour with us a little in the summer holidays and stuff,” he laughed softly, heart full and eyes crinkling.

“Wow, so you’ve been close, like that the whole time? Was she closest with you when you were all in the band, too?” Elvis asked, a slideshow now playing of 1D concert pictures and Harry nodded. “I’d say so, yeah. I mean, no words can actually describe how close and… _connected_ we are. The best way I could ever sort of describe it, ‘s that she’s m’ soulmate.”

The weight of his statement sat heavy on his chest and it felt like he was choking. For some reason, admitting that aloud on a live radio station had him seeing stars, had him realising that maybe there was more behind it than just a platonic, undeniable soul-consuming connection. Maybe there always had been more.

Harry had always visually and emotionally enjoyed you and your company. He’d always found you attractive and kind and warm and loving and the funniest woman he’d ever met. He’d always sought your comfort when he was hurt, always told you any big news before he told anyone else. He always turned to you for advice and help. His body always somehow craved yours, be it holding hands or having an arm over your shoulder. In a crowd full of laughing people, his eyes would always be on you and late at night when he couldn’t sleep, you’d be the first person he’d call.

Harry often fretted over his blank future, never knowing what it had in store for him. His mind drew a nearly blank canvas when it came to thinking about it, only two things written in bold, golden ink. Music and Y/N. No matter what, whether he was single or in a serious relationship, he knew you’d always be in his future, even if his current lover wouldn’t be, and he was always okay with that. He didn’t know why, but he was.

The studio was silent after his confession and Elvis nodded slowly, swallowing his shock and taking a deep breath. “Wow, that’s a heavy, uh, heavy statement to make,” he spoke carefully and the screen had changed to more pictures of you both, but a couple stood out to him more than the others.

A couple where he was staring off and away from the camera, where he knew he was looking at you somewhere on the sidelines, and then a couple when you were watching him, doe-eyes and soft features. It was the universal look people made when they were in love and in the ten years Harry had known you, he’d never seen you make that face to anyone before, not even him––until now, and it was like everything grew brighter and his heart began fluttering.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, completely infatuated and a feeling he had never felt for you before began to surge in his chest. “‘S not so heavy if you know ‘s real,” he said softly but Harry’s eyes remained on the picture of you both as he spoke, not daring to look away. It was like he was seeing you in a completely different light and everything made sense.

He understood now why he couldn’t find it in himself to tell you Fine Line was about you. He’d written songs about you before and had no problem with sharing them, but there was something about the raw emotion of something he didn’t understand in that song that always stopped him. He understood why neither of you made an effort to adjust your friendship to suit your past lovers. He understood why your name brought a sense of warmth to his body and your presence blanketed him in safety.

Harry understood.

He picked you up that evening from work, gentle smile on his lips and he felt like he was seeing you for the first time. He noticed your tired eyes and the little slump in your shoulders. He could tell you’d had a rough day and your hair tie from this morning was halfway down the back of your neck, stray strands framing your face.

“Hey,” you sighed out as you climbed into the passenger’s seat, reaching your hand over to squeeze his thigh gently in a form of greeting. Before you could pull it away, Harry grabbed your wrist softly and guided it to his mouth, pressing a tender, semi-open mouthed kiss to the back of your palm.

You smiled at him tiredly, head tilted a little to gauge him. There was something different about him, a glimmer in his eyes that he usually had when he was in love. Your stomach sunk, like gravity was pulling your organs to the ground. “Who’s the girl?” you swallowed the bile that rose in your throat as you asked the question and Harry’s brows raised to his hairline as he drove off.

You squinted. “I know there’s a girl. You always get that lovesick look on your face when you realise you’re falling in love with someone… who is she?” you asked again, and though you were desperate to _not_ know, to _not_ have your heart crushed again, you asked anyway. Harry gnawed on his inner cheek, wondered how you knew him as well as you did, but he knew you just the same.

You squinted at him a little harder, head tilted and you realised there was something else about the look in his eyes, an excitement and nervous glimmer that hid behind his iris’… a soft hue of comfort and acceptance but a glint that worried for an unrequited love. “Never seen you _this_ lovesick, though,” you mentioned, eyes stinging. “Who is she, H?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he kept driving. You didn’t question it, he often preferred to be somewhere quiet and comfortable to talk to you about big changes happening in his life. So you weren’t at all surprised when he pulled up at the top of a hillside you’d found two years ago when aimlessly following the hidden backgrounds of London.

The car was parked and you released your seatbelt, shifting in the chair to turn to him and rest your elbow on the centre console while your chin sat in the open palm of your hand. He regarded you for a moment, eyes low and full of so much love he was sure he was going to burst. Watching you gently gaze up at him through tired lashes and playfully blow hair from your face had sent his heart into overdrive and he felt like a complete idiot for not realising things sooner.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to say it. Come out blunt and tell you he was in love with you? Had been for years but only just realised? Confess that you were the inspiration behind Fine Line and he would always choose you over any lover his future held? Your soft, fluttering voice broke him from his trance and Harry reached over to cup your cheek in the palm of your hand.

You nuzzled into his touch like reflex, pressing a kiss to the skin just above his wrist and you knew the act was far too intimate for two best friends but you were always more than that. _Soulmates_. That label sent shockwaves through your body at the realisation that he was about to tell you about his latest love, the newest captor of his heart. _But you already had his soul._

“Y’know, yeh really quite gorgeous,” Harry rasped, thumb brushing over your cheekbone and while he had showered you in a fair share of compliments, heat still rose to your cheeks, hearing him say it so tenderly. For a moment you saw something in his eyes that hinted it meant more than just a friendly ego boost.

You didn’t say anything, just waited. “I figured summat out earlier, at the interview,” he began again, hand still caressing your skin and you hummed, brows pinched ever so slightly. Harry’s eyes were focused on yours, just like they always were whenever he spoke to you, but he seemed much more focussed now, like he was memorising your face.

For a second, you thought you realised what was happening. He’d finally found the one he was going to give you up for. He was savouring his last moments with you before telling you he’d found The One. You held your breath, ready for the heartache, but the sinking feeling didn’t come and neither did the goodbye.

“Realised jus’ how much yeh mean t’ me, ‘nd that through everything, you’ve always been by m’ side, always been the light in m’ darkest moments,” he murmured. You pinched your brows tighter, ready to pull away from him but Harry’s other hand cupped the other side of your face and held you in place. He dipped his head just enough to be eye level with you and shuffled closer.

You swallowed as his eyes fluttered to your parted lips.

“Took me ten years t’ realise why I always chose you. Why you were always the first person I thought about when somethin’ good happened, when I missed home, when I felt m’self falling and why every relationship I had failed,” he admitted, eyes welling with tears and you were confused. This wasn’t going how you had imagined. What was he trying to say?

“Never realised ‘til now that I always compared ‘em t’ you. That nothing they did was ever good enough, ‘cause you always did it better, always made me feel better and happier,” he sniffled. “It wasn’t even what you were doing, it was jus’ ‘cause _you_ were the one doing it. And if it wasn’t _you_ , then it didn’t matter.”

Prickles of tears had begun to stream down your cheeks and Harry tried to wipe them away before they could fall. “‘ve always known ‘ve loved yeh, jus’ never really understood how fucking deep I fell.”

Your bottom lip trembled and you pinched yourself. This had to be a cruel dream and you’d wake up and your love would be unrequited again. There was no way this could be happening. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. And yeh more than just a soulmate… yeh m’ twin flame, love of my life, yeh everythin’ t’ me,” he gauged your reaction, chest heaving and tears staining his own cheeks.

Your ears were ringing and everything but the sound of his voice was white noise. You reached up and held his wrists, breathing uneven as you let out a watery laugh of relief and sniffled back more tears. “I love you so much,” you reached forward and with an onslaught of tears, your lips met and souls collided.


End file.
